


poor thing

by Anonymous



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Omorashi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Wetting, and idk where it came from either!!!, look i'm sorry okay, some of us have gross kinks, yes I'm disgusting I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:16:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27125084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Snippets of times Jon has had accidents.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42
Collections: Anonymous





	poor thing

**Author's Note:**

> if you're reading this all I can say is I am so sorry... but I constantly think about Jon wetting himself because I am a freak. anyway I was gonna have some georgie chapters, some martin chapters, maybe some flashback chapters if people are into it enough?? again I know this is a squick for a lot of people and uh. if that's you then totally understandable and please move right along. but uh. for some reason god gave this bitch a wetting kink so here we are. anyway just know that if you are a writer who writes omo for tma yes I HAVE read your fic and I loved it. anyway this is my first time writing omo so hopefully it's okay??

Georgie’s not home when it first happens. Jon’s dozed off on the couch - again - with the Admiral at his feet, and as he wakes up, he groans at the crick in his neck and turns onto his side before freezing in place.

His crotch is damp. The Admiral jumps off the couch as he swallows and glances down at the wet patch on his pants. He groans as he feels his face begin to heat up. He hadn’t wet himself in his sleep in forever - since his uni years, probably, and even then it was because he’d been drinking. He stands up cautiously, frowning at the now-cold wetness that sticks to his thighs as he surveys the damage he’s done.

Thankfully, his thick sweatpants seem to have absorbed most of the mess, but there’s still a small spot of wetness on the couch cushion. God, hopefully he could get it cleaned up before Georgie came back from the shops. 

He’d wet the bed enough times as a kid to know the drill by now - blot the puddle with a cloth, mix dish soap and vinegar and water and dip a cloth into that, sponge the stain with that, and then sponge it again with just water, and then blot with yet another cloth until it’s mostly dry. Of course, the process was a bit hurried; he wanted to get out of his wet pants sooner rather than later, and he would die of embarrassment if Georgie came home to find him in soiled pants.

Thankfully, that didn’t happen - he had just stripped out of his clothes and jumped into the shower when he heard the door to the flat swing open, and he was so relieved he let out a sigh and rested his head against the wall of the shower.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

The second time he’s not so lucky. He’s woken up to Georgie shaking his shoulder. “Jon! Are you drunk?” she hissed at him in a voice that was more concerned than angry.

“Mm? No - no, I haven’t had alcohol in age-” He stops when he turns to face her and feels the wetness at his crotch. He takes in a breath and mutters, “Oh god, I’m so sorry, Georgie, I-”

She shakes her head. “It’s alright, I just - I didn’t know if you were drunk, because this used to happen in uni when you’d had too many beers, and…” she drifts off. “Just - just hop in the shower, alright? I’ll take care of the cushion.”

He shifts to get up and can feel himself blinking back tears. “I really am sorry, Georgie, I shouldn't have fallen asleep before - oh, god, I’m sorry.”

“Go shower, Jon.”

“Right. Yes. Alright.”

When he’s out of the shower, walking back into the living room drying his hair, he sighs when he sees Georgie finishing up the cleaning. “I really can’t apologize enough, I - I’m mortified, Georgie, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright, really. I mean, it used to happen in uni until-” she stops. “Well, until we. You know.” She waves her hand and Jon feels his face redden as a slew of memories come rushing into his mind. “It happens, it’s just a… well, it’s just a wee accident,” she turns to smirk at Jon, then, and he’s so embarrassed he could melt into the floor.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

The third accident happens while he’s awake. He’s been researching a statement giver’s criminal records for ages, and he’s so engrossed in it that it takes a couple calls of his name to snap him out of it.

“Jon,” Georgie said, again.

“Mm.” 

“I said, when’s the last time you went to the bathroom?”

He stops typing at this and suddenly he’s immensely aware of his need to go. “Um. I can’t - I can’t actually remember?”

“You’ve been squirming for a while, get up and go, silly.”

“I - I’m fine, really, I want to find where this-”

“Jon. Do you want to piss all over my couch again?”

He felt himself blush and he looked up to meet her dark eyes. “I thought we agreed not to talk about that,” he muttered. He adjusted his sitting position and there’s a jolt of pressure on his bladder and he instinctively jams a hand into his crotch and squirms.

“Look at you. You’re like a little kid, just go to the toilet.”

He swallowed and moved his laptop to the small side table before standing up slowly, all while gripping himself. 

As soon as he takes a step, he feels a spurt escape him and he hurries to the small bathroom of Georgie’s flat, determined to make it.

His body, however, has other ideas, and as soon as the toilet is in his field of vision, he feels himself break and before he knows it he is wetting his pants. He stands there gripping his crotch as he feels the warm liquid run down his legs in rivulets, and he stands there gripping his crotch as he feels it soak into his socks and drip onto the floor in a shameful puddle.

He makes a choked off noise, then, and hears Georgie shout from the living room, “Are you alright?”

“Er…” His jeans are sticking to his legs now, and he shifts his feet around and grimaces at the wet noise it makes.

He doesn’t try to stop himself from crying as Georgie emerges in the bathroom doorway with a pitiful look on her face as she mutters, “Oh, Jon.”


End file.
